


You Give Me Fever

by ThisWasInevitable



Series: Falling [3]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Everyone is smitten and a little bit bad a communicating, Fluff and Smut, Indrid is trying so hard, M/M, Masturbation, Mothman, Sex, TAZ Amnesty, indruck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17219480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: Indrid has a desire he can't shake. He decides to solve it in the only logical way: elaborating seducing his boyfriend.





	1. Fever til you Sizzle..

Indrid Cold has just had his fourth orgasm of the day.

This does not make him as happy as it ordinarily would.

For the past week, he’s been seized with a desire that will not leave him be: He really, really, really wants to fuck his boyfriend. 

He’s not surprised by the desire per se, more by it’s unshakeability. He’s been attracted to people before, certainly had sexual urges before. But it’s never been this intense, this distracting. Masturbating helps, as do the times he and Duck fool around, but still it returns. 

He has no idea if this has to do with him being with a human or if it’s some quirk of his biology that is only now making itself known (unlikely, given his age, but he’s not discounting it). Or maybe it’s a feature of Duck, specifically, something in his personality or looks, or in his chemistry (Indrid has done more research on human, moth, and Sylph pheromones in the last week then he cares to mention, and has come up with nothing).

Which is how he finds himself laying on his bed in the trailer, having just come to the fantasy of bending Duck over the kitchen counter and having his way with him. 

The obvious solution, simply asking Duck to indulge him, is out of the question. Not the he thinks Duck wouldn’t be interested; in fact Indrid had them each fill out a checklist of sexual things they did and did not want. They filled it out about two weeks after that first kiss in Indrids trailer, and from those lists Indrid knows Duck was indeed game for what he (desperately, hungrily, deeply) wants. But what is he supposed to say? “Hi Duck, you look nice today, also I would very much like to bend you over the nearest flat surface and fuck you until neither of us can move?”

No, absolutely out of the question. Duck, his sweet Duck, who covered a wall of his home in corkboard so Indrid could keep track of the future drawings when he's there, who patiently taught him the rules of human board games, who keeps him warm at night, deserves something romantic, some kind of elaborate courtship, before Indrid would even dream of asking him to do something that feels so…vulnerable. It feels like some sort of next, important step between them, even though Indrid knows plenty of humans happily engage in this exact activity casually and do just fine. 

He wants to show Duck how much he cares about him, the whole him. He wants it to be like movies, where he sweeps Duck off his feet before taking him to bed. But he has to be careful about it; he'd hate for Duck to feel obligated just because Indrid did something nice for him. After all, even if after whatever Indrid does Duck says no, it would still be worth it to do something that made him happy. 

Very well then, Indrid is going to woo Duck so hard he won’t know what hit him. It’ll be a breeze.

It would be easier to convince himself of that if couldn’t see the future. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

Two days later, Indrid is finishing up a project in the kitchen of Ducks house. It’s the early evening and he’s standing elbows-deep in plastic bags full of candles (“pine forest” scented), flowers (red roses, as is traditional), string lights, food, and a few extras including catnip toys for Millie so she doesn’t disturb the proceedings. He has ten minutes before Duck gets home from work. Just enough time to get everything in place and double-check himself in the mirror (he’s wearing his favorite pink and yellow sweater and best pair of pajama pants). 

He’s putting bowls on the table just as Duck walks in the door. He likes watching Ducks face light up with surprise as he takes in the flowers, the candles on the table, and the multi-colored lights strung across the living room.

“What’s all this?” Duck takes off his hat, hangs it by the door.

“Oh, nothing, I was just feeling festive.” Indrid has his hands on one of the chairs, tries not to bounce up and down in excitement. He pulls the chair away from the table, indicates that Duck should sit down. 

“Uh huh, you sure there ain’t another reason? Wait, I’m not forgettin' an anniversary or somethin' am I?” Ducks tone goes from amused to worried. Indrid freezes slightly longer than he means to.

“Nope!”

Duck finally notices the bowl in front of him. 

“Hey, this is the french onion soup from the grill I like!” His smile is worth all the time Indrid spent being jostled by winter tourists to get the stuff. 

“I swung by it on my way over here.” Indrid grins as he slides into the chair across from Duck. He looks so pretty in the candlelight. It’s only when Duck gives him a look that Indrid realizes he’s been staring. 

“See somethin' you like?” 

“Plenty.” Indrid stretches out one leg, runs the inside of his foot up Ducks calve and thigh, barely brushing against his crotch. Duck inhales sharply, which is unfortunate in that he just took a bite of soup. After a small coughing fit, he laughs.

“I see what’s goin' on here. Mr. Cold, you’re tryin' to seduce me.” 

“Just a bit.” Indrid repeats the motion with his foot (making sure Duck isn’t eating this time), and Duck shivers. 

“Should we, uh, put dinner on hold?”

“No need, we have plenty of time.” This is not an accurate statement given the futures he’s seeing, but he’s reluctant to admit defeat just yet. Besides, he’s relishing the little sounds Duck is making as he teases him. He adds just a touch more pressure with his foot and Duck rolls his head back with happy groan. 

“You’re killin' me.”

“I’ll gladly stop if you need to finish eating without distraction.”

“Naw, I can multi-task. Christ, how’d I get so lucky?” 

Indrid doesn’t reply, instead steels himself for the knock at the door.

It comes and Duck bolts upright.

“What the, oh shit, I’m supposed to train with Leo tonight! I completely forgot what day it was, I’m so sorry darlin'.” Duck hurriedly gets up, adjusts his clothes, and is halfway to the door before he backtracks to kiss Indrid. 

“Not to worry, you need to keep your skills up. I’d prefer you not get eaten by an abomination because you spent time with me instead of training.” Duck smiles at him, and then he’s out the door. 

Indrid leans back in his chair, addresses the ceiling.

“Fuck.”

\----------------------

 

His next two attempts to woo Duck have similar results. He’s starting to think he’s cursed. Even when he tries using his foresight to avoid any more interruptions they always manage to appear.

The massage, complete with mood lighting, rose petals, and lotion that smelled like chocolate was interrupted by yet another knock at the door. This time Agent Stern was the culprit and Indrid swears that if he did have the ability to bring disaster on people, Stern would be first in line on basis of this alone. Any tension he’d gotten out of Ducks shoulders was immediately put back in after Stern kept asking about the last “bigfoot” sighting.

To be fair, he knew the romantic stargazing date had a fifty percent chance of ending the way it did before they even set foot in the woods, but he figured he’d try his luck. If it went how he hoped, they’d have a pleasant walk in the snow in the moonlight (what better excuse to cuddle up with Duck as they walk than being extremely cold), then head back to the house to “warm up.” If it didn’t, they’d happen to spot the latest abomination. 

They spotted the abomination. At least that helped the Pine Guard get the drop on it. 

Worst of all, it was clear Duck was noticing the pattern. He kept commenting how Indrid was spoiling him, how’d he’d need to come up with some way to reciprocate, and it took every bit of control Indrid had not to make a extremely lewd request. Duck had even brought Indrid flowers (“figured since we’re doin' the whole ‘romance’ thing you might like 'em”) and candy a few times. There’d also been plenty of early morning blow-jobs and fooling around in bed and one particularly enjoyable make-out session in the car that turned so intense Indrid nearly kicked out one of the back windows on accident. But all those moments felt too spontaneous, without the effort needed to demonstrate to Duck just how much he meant to him that he thinks more elaborate plans do.

For his fourth attempt, Indrid settled on something more low-key: a movie night. He’d picked a few films he knew Duck enjoyed and even found a recipe for romantic cocktails to try.

Then, as he’d unfortunately kept foreseeing, Duck called from the station to let him know he had to stay late to take care of some work. 

Which is why Indrid is, once again, on his back in their bed, trying to relieve some of the pressure. It’s the kitchen counter fantasy again, his favorite, the one where Duck is still in his work uniform, hair mussed from where Indrids hands have been, begging him not to stop.

When he thinks back on it later, he really should have seen what was coming. He’ll blame it on being preoccupied until the day he dies.

The bedroom door opens and he hears a familiar drawl:

“Well, ain’t this a pleasant surprise?”


	2. ...What a Lovely Way to Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which talking proves more effective than elaborate courtship.

Duck’s not sure what he expected when he came home, but his boyfriend sprawled on the bed making small, desperate noises while jacking off was not even in the top hundred. 

Even more surprising is that as soon as he speaks, Indrid yelps, sits up, and throws a pillow across his lap. With the glasses, he looks like the world's most startled owl. 

“Sorry darlin', didn’t mean to scare you. Figured you’d heard me come in.” 

“Nope.” Indrids voice is high and tight.

“Don’t bother me none, hell I’ve done the same thing nights you weren’t around.”

Indrid seems frozen in place, he’s doing that thing where he tries to make himself smaller, and that's worrisome. Duck sits cautiously down on the bed.

“You okay?”

“Yes! No! Kind of, I think, maybe.” 

“Indrid, you’re lyin' like I do. I’m guessin' that means you ain’t okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m here.”

“It’s just” Indrid shifts uncomfortably “what I was thinking about. And the fact that this is the fifth time today I’ve thought about it.”

Ducks curiosity wars with his concern, wins. 

“Is it somethin' the two of us could be doin'?”

“Yes.” Indrid buries his face in the pillow. He reaches out a hand, opens the drawer of the bedside table, pulls out those lists he had the two of them do. Places one on the bed, points to a particular line. 

Oh

OH

“You want to fuck me?”

Indrid nods, face still in the pillow

“You been thinkin' about that a lot?”

“Constantly. I’ve been wanting to do it for weeks, but I, well, I was trying to get the timing right.” Comes the muffled reply.

“Hold on, was all that stuff you’ve been doin' just because you wanted to..”

“No! Nonono.” Indrids head snaps up.

“It’s not just because of that. I mean, it is and it isn’t. Ugh, okay.” Indrid takes a deep breath, seems to collect his thoughts. 

“I felt like it was a lot to ask you to do just at the spur of the moment. So I decided I needed to do something big and romantic before I asked, so that you could see how much you meant to me and that I didn’t just want you for sex..things. And then everything I planned kept getting interrupted, so I kept trying. But I like doing nice things for you, even if I never get a single thing out of it other than you being happy. And I’ll keep doing them as often as you want me to.”

Duck is touched. Perplexed, but touched.

“Indrid, you coulda just asked. I mean, I like it when you get all romantic and such, but I don’t need it to believe you care about me. Or to want you to fuck me, for that matter. “

“Oh.” Indrid is staring at the pillow in his arms. Duck leans forward, brushes Indrids hair from his eyes. 

“I feel rather silly.” 

“Think I know somethin' that can help with that.”

Indrid looks up, and Duck can tell a particular future just made itself known by the way his expression moves from embarrassment to pure, uncut lust. 

“You want me to say it?” Duck inches closer, bites Indrids ear. 

“Please.”

“I want you to fuck meumph!” He’s knocked backwards as Indrid tosses the pillow aside and kisses him. He’s already panting by the time they break apart.

“How do you want me?”

“Every possible way.” Indrid is tugging at Ducks shirt trying to get it off, seemingly too distracted to remember it has buttons. 

“Flatterin' as that is, gonna need you to be more specific.” He starts undoing his shirt.

“Bed, lie down on your stomach, take all this off, not necessarily in that order.” Indrid stands up and, as Duck strips down, digs through the bedside table and dresser collecting various supplies (with a brief pause to tear down one or two drawings). When Duck's down to his boxers, he rolls completely onto the bed, feels it dip slightly as Indrid climbs on with him.

Indrid nudges his legs apart, runs a hand up each one appreciatively before yanking his underwear down. There’s a crinkle of foil, a comical noise from the lube bottle, and Indrid slowly works in the first finger. 

Duck tenses momentarily. It’s, well, it’s been awhile since this has happened and his body has a little bit forgotten what it feels like. But then Indrids free hand is rubbing the small of his back in small circles, and he’s cooing out a string of encouragements until Duck relaxes.

By the third finger he’s half-hard, relishing the stretch and the ache, and the anticipation.

Indrid removes his hand and there’s a tell-tale fwump as he tosses his pants off the bed. He lifts Ducks hips up and back so that Duck is braced on his knees and forearms. Indrid works his way in slowly, his usual hum becoming more of a purr as he does. He places a hand on Ducks hip for balance, the other reaches forward until it finds Ducks hand and laces their fingers together. 

The first thrusts are tentative, accompanied by Indrid leaning down to kiss the back of his neck, and Duck realizes he’s been more or less motionless since they started. That won’t do at all, he needs Indrid to understand how much he wants this. He grinds back against him and is rewarded with a hickey on his upper back. He does it again, and Indrid responds with stronger movements. He pulls back and thrusts more sharply, making Duck moan into the blankets. Indrid settles on that as their pace, drawn out and hard, and it only takes a few minutes before Duck feels a familiar tightness in his stomach. 

He’s weighing whether he wants to chase his orgasm or draw things out as long as he can when the hand holding his own moves it away from his head, dragging it to rest to the side of his cock. 

“Seein' a particular future you, ah fuck, you like?”

“Yes, I want you to, oh goodness, I want to feel you come while I’m still inside you.”

Duck doesn’t need him to ask twice, lets go of Indrids hand to stroke himself as quickly as he can, comes with a groan as Indrids hips snap more rapidly. Feels teeth sink into the nape of is neck as Indrid growls, tenses, and then practically collapses on top of him. 

There’s a pause as Indrid withdraws before flopping onto his back. Duck rolls over, resting his head against his chest as it rises and falls with shallow pants. 

“Before you ask; yes, it was a good as I was hoping for. In fact, it was much better. I cannot believe I waited this long to try it.”

“I aim to please, my little magic eight ball.”

“I’m larger than you. And I don’t see the future because someone shakes me; it is simply an ability I posses. Also if you insist on calling me that I’m going to start referring to you as smokey the bear.” The threat comes out in a fond mutter

“Whatever you say,darlin'.”

\--------------------------------------

An hour later, Indrid is drawing in the kitchen as Duck putters about. Indrid is warm, relaxed, happy. As far as he can tell, the urge that’s been bothering him for weeks is finally soothed. He glances up and three things occur simultaneously. 

He notices Duck standing at the counter, flipping through the mail.

He re-notices that Duck put his works clothes back on when they finally got out of the bed. 

And the very urge he thought was under control is at the forefront of his mind without warning. 

Great. Just peachy. What is he supposed to do, he can’t ask Duck to do that again so soon can he?

The again, Duck said he should just ask.

Another future flips across his mind as he completes the current drawing. He puts the pad down on the table and walks up behind Duck. Wraps his arms around him, nuzzles his neck.

“Duck?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you be up for doing what we just did again?”

“Course I would. When were you thi” Indrid grinds against him to answer the question before it’s finished. 

“Damn, you weren’t kiddin' about this bein' persistent.”

“Nope.” He kisses Ducks shoulder, hugs him closer. 

“Can’t make any promises about my own, uh, guess you’d call it performance, but I’m happy to oblige.”

Indrid turns him enough so they can kiss.

“You’re magnificent.”

“How much of that statement is sex based?”

“Only some, wait right here.” Indrid dashes to bedroom, grabs what he needs, and is back approximately fifteen seconds before Duck is going to ask him how he wants it.

“Bend over the counter.” 

“Do you want me to...?" Duck gestures to his clothes

“No, keep it all on. Except these, but I’ll take care of that.” He’s already tugging at Ducks belt as he speaks. He should have waited until Duck finished turning to undo it, but at this point grace and efficiency are at the bottom of his priorities. 

“And you’re still prepped enough from before so we won’t need to worry about that.”

“That the future or the fact you’re horny talkin'?”

“Both.” He finishes rolling on the condom, ruts up against Duck. 

“Promise I’ll be quick.”

“Ain’t got to rush on my accouOHfuck, fuck.” Duck yelps as Indrid pushes in and begins hurriedly thrusting his hips. He loves this, loves how tight and hot Duck feels around him, the way pleasure shudders through him when Indrid fucks him, the fact that words coming out of his mouth have so quickly devolved into curses interspersed with pleas for more. He runs a hand under his shirt and up his back, enjoying the way the muscles tense in tandem with Indrids own movements. 

He runs a hand through Ducks hair, the next few seconds flashing in front of him before they happen. Oh, this is going to be fun.

He tightens his grip and pulls, not enough to lift Ducks head but enough to be noticeable. A noise between a whine and a growl comes from Duck as one of his hands scratches at the tile of counter. He relaxes his grip for a beat, before pulling again, a little bit harder, and Duck arches backwards into him, giving Indrid the angle he needs to hit what he’s looking for. 

“Fuck, right there, please, please!” 

Who is Indrid to deny such a polite request? 

He pins Duck in that position, fucking him as hard as he can until the only sounds leaving his mouth are Indrids name and moans that shudder out from his chest and through his limbs. Indrid comes during one such moan, burying his face against Duck as he does.

“Don’t think comin’s in the cards for me this soon after, unless you’re seein' differently.” Duck’s voice is shaky, and a quick glimpse of the future shows he’s correct.

“No, my apologies.” He pulls out, but stays pressed up against Duck for a moment more. He doesn’t want to let go, not just yet. 

“A'int nothin' to apologize for, though the fact I’m not goin' to be able to stand up tomorrow might be.” One of Ducks hands reaches back, pats Indrid lovingly (if somewhat awkwardly due to the angle) on the back.

They both straighten up and set about dressing, Duck opting to finally switch out of his work clothes. 

“Sort of surprised Millie didn’t interrupt us.” Duck mentions as he settles on the couch.

“I gave her a lot of catnip toys.” 

“Indrid, did you get my cat high?”

“Not intentionally, no.” He flops down next to Duck, kisses him on the cheek. By the time Millie finally joins them, curling up against Ducks stomach, they’re both sound asleep on the couch, Ducks back against Indrids chest.

(It’s not the last time these urges occupy so much of Indrids mind, but when it happens again, he knows he doesn’t have to go through such a rigamarole; all he has to do is ask).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me a month ago: Huh, looks like people ship Indrid and Duck. I can see why, even if it never ends up canon. Cute.
> 
> Me, now, looking at the thousands of words I have written about this pairing: Whelp.

**Author's Note:**

> Please picture the author standing outside with a mega-phone yelling JUST TELL HIM. Seriously folks, if you want to do something with a partner, just ask them. Also, the thing Indrid has them fill out is: http://www.scarleteen.com/article/advice/yes_no_maybe_so_a_sexual_inventory_stocklist
> 
> Next up: Two goofuses communicate, sex ensues.
> 
> Questions, comments, requests? Find me at Inevitable Indruck: https://thiswasinevitableid.tumblr.com/


End file.
